Money shot blue ivy prep.., p.1
Money Shot (Blue Ivy Prep Book 4), page 1
Money Shot
BLUE IVY PREP
BOOK FOUR
HEATHER LONG
Copyright © 2023 by Heather Long
Cover: Vicious Desires Design
Photography: Michelle Lancaster
Model: Anthony Patamisi
Editing: Leavens Editing
Proofing: Lunar Rose Editing
All rights reserved.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referred to in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Money Shot/Heather Long – 1st ed.
Contents
Money Shot
Series so Far
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Bay Ridge Royals
Afterword
About Heather Long
Also by Heather Long
Money Shot
Kaitlin Crosse wields an extraordinary power over me. She pushes, dares, and drives me to the brink of madness. Ever since our paths intertwined, my obsession with her has been absolute and unyielding.
Every aspect of her calls out to me, yet the very thing I yearn for the most might be forever beyond my grasp. She resists my attempts to possess and protect her. She refuses my claims, asserting her fiercely independent nature.
That same, unwavering self-reliance only intensifies my attraction to her, and ignites a fierce desire to eradicate the pain in her eyes. Pain we inflicted upon her. Pain her father has inflicted. Pain that the world relentlessly imposes upon her.
I don’t want to share her with anyone. Not my brothers. Not her friends. Not the world.
But that’s not what Ace needs…
And I need her.
So I have to become what she needs, and that means working with my brothers, her closest friends, and her family. It means fighting to keep her safe when the whole world seems to want to tear her apart.
I won’t let that happen.
We won’t.
Kaitlin Crosse, my ace, my fixation, and my future.
For everyone who has ever had my back.
You know who you are.
Series so Far
Problem Child
Mad Boys
Party Crashers
Money Shot
Foreword
Dear Reader,
Thank you for picking up this book, and for taking a chance on a new series. If I’m a new author to you, welcome. If you’ve read my previous works, hello there, it’s good to see you. Money Shot is book 4 of Blue Ivy Prep, so if you haven’t read the first three, I would recommend pausing to grab those and start with Problem Child as this series needs to be read in order.
Previously at Blue Ivy Prep, Lachlan returns to Ramsey’s suite and is very aware that it smells like sex. It doesn’t take long for Lachlan and Jonas to identify who their brother had sex with and the tension between the three ratchets up. However, a voicemail left by KC on Lachlan’s phone reveals she didn’t run away or take off—she wanted to talk to all three of them but someone attacked her.
The guys track her to where she “vanished” and they get campus security involved. A ransom note is sent to KC’s father Gibs. The guys learn because their mother wants them to make her stop whatever “games” KC is playing with Gibs.
Eventually, they convince Gibs to pay the ransom and they are given a location. Their relief is profound when they find her, and she’s transported to the hospital. Aubrey and Yvette are there for her and the guys are being very protective, in the short amount of time leading up to graduation and then the girls take KC back to California.
The guys elect to follow her this time. They also learn more about how sick Pen is and get tested to see if they could also be matches. They are truly realizing everything they thought about the gulf between KC and Gibs is not at all what they thought it was.
Lachlan manages to hook up with KC at a club, the guys reach out to her, she isn’t sure she wants to do this anymore especially after everything that happened. Her focus is very much on Pen. With Davina’s encouragement, KC invites the guys over for dinner and they all confront some truths—including KC and Ramsey ending up in bed together.
Eventually, KC chooses to go back to Blue Ivy for college classes. She moves in with all three guys—Ramsey is now a full-time instructor while Lachlan and Jonas are going to classes as well.
They are testing the waters to see if a relationship between her and all three will work. In the meanwhile, KC finally gets ahold of her sibling Trace and learns that Trace is now Tracy, and Tracy was worried that KC may not approve of her being trans. KC is just happy Tracy is all right, but she fills her in on Pen’s condition.
Tracy gets tested and to everyone’s relief, Tracy is a match. As they get Pen ready for a transplant, it’s full steam ahead to continue raising money and awareness with a benefit concert.
They travel to California to perform, only for KC to end up on stage with Gibs, an ambush she didn’t see coming when Party Crashers wraps up and that brings us to here—Money Shot.
Whew.
Triggers to be mindful of: There is some stalking, and I will give a warning for a severe health diagnosis concerning a side character. A couple of assaults occur including an attempted SA.
If you have read this far, thank you. Money Shot is the fourth and final book in the series following Kaitlin Crosse as she attends Blue Ivy Prep, an exclusive boarding, prep, and college school for the wealthy and the privileged.
The series is reverse harem/why choose. This means the female main character will not have to choose between the guys in her life. This series is also slow burn, and begins with bullying, secrets, lies, and complicated family ties.
While the first book was told exclusively from Kaitlin’s viewpoint except for the prologue, all other books in this series contain multiple points of view.
Thank you again for taking a chance on this series, I can’t wait to hear what you think of KC and the douchebags three. Be sure to join us in my reader group on Facebook where we talk books, book loving, some spoilers, teasers for the future, and bonus scenes. Don’t forget to sign up for news and updates on my website to get all the latest news, releases and more emailed right to you.
xoxo
Heather
Prologue
KC
MORE THAN A DECADE EARLIER…
“Juliet,” I called as I slid down the banister. The long slope of the fat wooden banister gave me time to pick up speed before I whipped around the corner. You had to jump at just the right time to hit the thick padding of the rug in the living room.
“Kaitlin Crosse,” Juliet scolded, but since she was also laughing, I just timed my jump and landed it. Laughter escaped me and I caught Juliet shaking her head even as she smiled. “You need to be careful. I don’t want to have to be the one to tell your daddy you hurt yourself.”
I grinned, but I didn’t make a promise I didn’t want to keep. “Good morning, Juliet.”
That just earned me another half-laugh, half-sigh. “Charm will not work.”
“Are you sure?” It had taken me time to master that line, but I had all the practice with Mom when she was working on her last movie. Since then, it had become my get-out-of-trouble catchphrase—well, that was what Davina called it.
“No,” Juliet told me with a light swat from the dust cloth she was carrying. “Your daddy is in his studio and I’m going to have breakfast in thirty minutes. So go tell him for me?”
I loved the studio. “On it!” I promised and then raced for the door, half-skipping when I remembered I was not supposed to run in the house. Once at the door though, I hurried down the stone steps, then through the garden, and around the pool where I could follow the rock wall to the bungalow that housed Daddy’s studio.
When he was actively recording, the red light on the door would tell you to wait. If he was just working, the red light wasn’t on. No red light. I let myself in and danced to the music spilling out of the work booth.
Spinning on a chair, Daddy grinned at me. “Sweet Kaity,” he c alled, and I skipped right over to him. He was seated at the control panel and after a hug, he lifted me up into his lap. “What do you think?”
His hair tickled my shoulder. Daddy had hair almost as long as mine. His wasn’t as pretty, or so he at least said. I liked the longish waves, especially when he let me brush it. I leaned forward to stare at the soundboard and the mixing. Music flowed from the speakers. A steady rhythm of the keyboard and sweet metal from the electric bass, but it was the acoustic guitar that made the piece really sing.
I pointed to the mixer board and tapped the guitar control. “Needs more.”
“Yeah?” Daddy nodded and I nudged the switch upwards a half degree. It gave a little more focus to the mournful notes Daddy teased out of the guitar. The song had a good beat, but it made my chest hurt. “Yeah, I like that,” he answered.
“It’s sad,” I told him after we listened to the full piece. It was almost eight minutes long and it made me want to cry.
“Music is life and life can be pain, Sweet Kaity,” Daddy told me. “But we can flip that sound around…” He tweaked the dials and started it over. The tears in the music gave way to something almost taunting. “How is that?”
“It’s meaner,” I told him and then looked at the controls. “Can I play with it too?”
“Yep,” he said, shifting to put his guitar on the stand and hooking a chair to drag it over. “On you go.” He lifted me right onto it and then knocked out a cigarette before he touched the controls to explain them. “Pitch. Tempo. We can also fade or increase…”
The flick of his lighter was a familiar sound, along with the crisping of the tobacco catching fire. The blue smoke he exhaled made me grin, especially when he blew little rings.
“Got it?” he asked and I pointed to each dial, repeating back what they did. “That’s my girl,” he said with a grin before he tugged my ponytail. “What do we want to do with the song?”
I hit play again after I switched the dials back, and then I nudged up the violin a little more. That took the sad and the taunt and kind of tied them together. I played it three times before I touched the dial for his guitar. Bit by bit, I nudged it up until the guitar became the dominant thread. The other instruments came and went but Daddy’s guitar set the tone and there—it went from sad to mean to almost a real dare that climbed at the end.
“Hey,” Daddy said. “Do that again.”
He picked up his guitar and began to tap out the tempo on it, cigarette between his lips. And then, on the next go-through, he played along and I practically vibrated in the chair as the new thread made it seem like a contest—a fight between Daddy’s guitar and the guitar on the recording.
When the song came to an end, he flicked off the ash on his cigarette and eyed me. “What do we think?”
“I love it,” I told him. “Can I play with you?”
“Hell yes, you can.” He stubbed out the cigarette and then settled the guitar on my lap. I loved this guitar; it was so much bigger than me, but if he put my hands in the right places—there we go. “All right, one second…” He grabbed his second guitar and then rolled the dials around before he eyed me. “Ready?”
I grinned. “I’m always ready, Daddy.”
“Yeah, you are…”
When he hit play, I tapped out the first two beats, then jumped in on the third.
Daddy never stopped grinning.
One
KC
I was going to throw up.
“Kaitlin Crosse, you’re up. We had a slight change. Your girls are coming on right after you, but you’re up first.”
“Go straight out—”
“Kaitlin Crosse on stage in five, four, three…”
The roar hit me like a tidal wave as the spotlights picked up my arrival.
Movement had me turning to the man waiting out there in his own spotlight.
“For the first time ever, Gibson Crosse and his daughter Kaitlin, from Torched, will be performing together right here for you tonight…”
I was going to do more than throw up.
A thousand thoughts collided in my head as the crowd lost their goddamn minds. This—wasn’t supposed to happen. Nothing on the schedule indicated Dad had even been invited, much less agreed.
Why the fuck hadn’t Teddy warned me?
“Hey, Sweet Kaity,” Dad said, his smile warm as he gazed across the stage at me. If not for the microphone, I wouldn’t even have heard him. As it was, I had to wonder if I was making it up. His guitar was plugged in, so he wasn’t exactly walking toward me.
That meant I had to go to him.
The slam of my heart was not the metronome I wanted to perform against. In the rush to get me out here, they’d pressed a microphone into my hand. But I didn’t have a guitar. That sent another spasm of pain through my chest.
It was just the two of us on the stage—no band to back us up or hide behind. Staring at Dad, I couldn’t tell if I wanted to scream or to cry.
Maybe both.
He’d pulled his long hair back into a tail, keeping it out of his face. There were streaks of gray that caught the lights. Those, along with the lines around his eyes, were a testament to the passage of time. I didn’t remember the crow’s feet being so pronounced.
Then again…the stage lights had never been kind to anyone. It was why we did makeup and hoped we didn’t sweat through it.
“Dad,” I said, only half-remembering to raise my microphone. The single syllable triggered another wave of applause and wild screaming. I was going to gut Teddy with a spoon.
If I turned around and stalked off this stage right now, the girls would back me. I was pretty sure the guys would, too. For one seemingly endless and painful moment, I wondered if they’d known he was coming.
If they’d…
No.
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to take a long breath.
No, they hadn’t known.
Their anger and regret had been tangible. It was real.
I couldn’t leave.
Whatever we ended up doing out here would set the tone for the rest of the night. Tonight wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about Dad. It wasn’t even about all those people out there in the audience or watching on screens…
Tonight was about Pen.
My throat locked up, even though I kept putting one foot in front of the other, moving across the stage. Fueled by the practice of performing on so many stages over the years. The only difference right now?
I was flying solo.
Dad definitely didn’t count.
But if I faltered, my girls would be here. Aubrey and Yvette weren’t more than a few dozen steps behind me.
“I hope you have a plan,” I said, not quite trusting my voice not to wobble. But it came out a little husky. “Cause I didn’t even know you were going to be here.”
“Yeah,” Dad said, his smile almost sheepish. Enough that I might have bought it, if he hadn’t glanced at the audience. “The producers wanted to go for a real moment.”
I snorted.
A real moment.
The crowd had quieted some as if they hadn’t expected us to talk.
Well, they weren’t alone in that. “This is Hollywood,” I reminded us both as I came to a stop just a few feet away from him. We had to put on a show. “Nothing here is real.”
His gaze locked on mine and I lifted my chin. There were cameras. They were all over the place … including one guy who was all but crouched at our feet. Every nuance of this interaction was going to be available fucking everywhere.
